


Wildgrowth

by snapspark



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapspark/pseuds/snapspark
Summary: Taeyong and Mark avoid the bathroom rush hour.





	Wildgrowth

 

 

The last show of the week knocked the wind out of them. Outside the venue, ears still pounding, the boys of NCT big and small dogpile noisily into their waiting vans. It’s summer, and the air smells sticky like watermelon, the AC is doing just enough good for the residual body heat of six or something young dancers throwing their limbs across the seats. For Mark Lee, music on his mind, the commute back home is a blur.

Taeyong, his brilliant leader, wakes Mark up near the end.

“Want ice cream?” He hears from far away.

“Who’s coming?” Mark rasps as his eyes adjust in time to see them pull into the driveway.

Across the front seat Taeyong whispers to his chosen favorite. “Less the better. Come on.”

Mark glows. He goes along, grateful for any invitation to avoid the hour-long mayhem of their communal bathroom.

 

—

 

When they make it back from the convenience store the soapy showers are bouncing clouds of heat and sweet shampoo off the ceramic walls. From the living room, the boys waiting around for their hairs to dry evacuate the couches as the last two dirty members intrude on their exclusive leisure. Soap bar between two fingers Mark nudges the bathroom door open for them, and they waste no time stripping out of their clothes and sprinting for the showers.

Hot water on his back feels good. Ice cream cooling his stomach is even more satisfying. At last Mark’s height loses a few stolen centimetres as his hair gel washes down into the drain beside their feet, along with all the sweat and makeup.

Taeyong is shuffling around his basket of products. Mark finds it hilarious and a little exhausting that his meticulous leader must first lather up a two-toned loofah before putting it on his body.

“Forgot to pack?”

Mark looks down at his singular bar of soap.

“Err. Donghyuck took most of our stuff.”

“Here,” Taeyong sets his basket on the rack between them.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Taeyong’s shampoo smells a lot like Taeyong, though Mark reasons it’s probably the other way around.

“You should try some of this.”

Taeyong’s eyes are clenched from the bubbles. From beneath the water he peeks for a second before passing a travel sized bottle in Mark’s direction. His aim brings his knuckles against the curve of Mark’s waist and slips off his back.

Trying again, Taeyong nudges it towards him. “Mark.”

Mark’s mind goes blank for a beat before receiving it hastily. _Conditioner_ , he reads, without comprehending.

Taeyong’s left hand is back in his hair, roughly carding through the tenacious wet strands, brushing his hair part the right way until the layers are smoothed against his scalp. Mark remembers there is something in his hand. He slowly removes the cap and stares at it. The spot on his waist bumped earlier feels cold and tingles outside the reach of warm water.

Ahh, not good.

Now he is conscious of his body, of his whole body.

He peeks inside the bottle. There’s nothing to see. He’s almost done remembering how to use it when his hand shuts off the water instead.

“Done already?” Taeyong’s voice is muffled by the steam. He wipes the sheen of water off his face and down his neck. Yes, Mark yelps, and throws the towel around himself before Taeyong, his oblivious leader, can open his eyes.

 

—

 

In his bed with his script in his lap and his laptop under his script, Mark is watching a video of one of his favorite artists talk about his music.

Through the open door the soft muttering from his laptop draws in Taeyong, fresh out of his extended shower with a white shirt on and a towel on his head.

“Mark Lee,” he greets. “You should sleep soon. Where are the others?”

"Probably went out again.” Mark doesn’t know or care when he’s blessed with enough solitude to roll around his bed or scream.

Behind him Taeyong rests his hand on his shoulder and watches whatever he’s watching with him despite it all sounding like gibberish.

Mark is lost in thought about miscellaneous things. Behind him Taeyong’s hand lingers on his shoulder as they listen to the deep and soothing voice speak over the sparse sounds of night beyond the curtains. Still, his mind is too chaotic for this kind of rare stillness.

Mark sighs.

“Maybe I should bulk up a little,” he says. “What do you think?”

Taeyong’s still watching the screen with a slightly dazed look, and he glances down to meet Mark’s eyes. “What makes you say that?”

Mark thinks about it and shrugs.

Taeyong thinks about it too, then shakes his head. “You’re still growing. Let your body take its shape.”

Mark nods. Lately he’d been wishing someone would tell him something that wasn’t “be himself”. He doesn’t think it’s going to become much of a shape. Not that larger is the kind of form he’s been inadvertently trying to hurry his body into. People claim he’s got his own Mark Lee kind of flow, but Mark still feels out of control of his parts sometimes, like vines crawling out the confines of its trellis. Awkward, without poise, unlike the airs his seniors have settled into.

Taeyong must read these thoughts in the slump of his shoulders.

“Taking it easy is enough,” he says, and Mark senses his fingers before they touch down, “for being the busiest kid on the planet.”

Taeyong’s hands cup his neck. His thumbs climb up the sides of Mark’s spine in gentle, hypnotic circles. Mark holds his breath the moment those hands slide into his damp hair, still carrying the shared scent of Taeyong’s shampoo. From the base of his neck, Taeyong begins to massage his head.

Mark’s not sure why it’s happening, but kids being handed candy don’t ask questions.

“You really are multi-talented, hyung,” Mark says through his wide grin.

Taeyong, pleased, huffs in laughter.

 

—

 

In minutes Taeyong is combing Mark’s hair back in the direction they belong, over and over. He brushes Mark’s bangs back across his forehead and tucks it behind his ear.

Mark Lee’s eyes have closed on their own. Cradled warmly by the sides of his head, Mark is drifting to sleep when he feels a soft press to the crown of his head, gone as quickly as it had come.

He turns around to see Taeyong straighten, suddenly realizing what happened. Mark’s hand flies to the spot where he imagines Taeyong’s sleepily smiling lips were just a moment ago.

“Hyung,” he gasps.

His hyung, seeing his reaction, freezes up a little too.

Mark is blushing hard. Mark looks wronged to have had that dropped on him in his least suspecting state.

Taeyong has a hard time suppressing his laugh. He leans down, dodging around the motionless Mark to pause his video and pushes the things on his lap aside. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing the opposite way.

Head flushed with blood, Mark is zoning out of reality with his gaze scattered across the room. Taeyong watches a corner of Mark’s poster flutter from the breeze coming from the window, tapes it down for him.

He nudges Mark with his shoulder.

“I don’t want to make you hate me, you understand right?”

He looks up at Mark steadily. Mark looks up too, meeting his eyes without a word.

Taeyong seems to drifts closer, slow enough that he knows Mark has time to answer.

Under the curtain of his towel all Mark can see are his almond eyes, blinking patiently at him, calming him. Taeyong closes his eyes, so Mark too falls still, waiting for it to come.

Their noses touch.

He realizes now—Taeyong’s shoulders are shaking. Taeyong’s smooth breath on his skin trembles once then twice. Mark thinks it must be less scary for them both if he just clenches his eyes. It feels like Taeyong is breathing for him until he remembers how to do that past the mad thumping in his chest.

The bridges of their noses shift against one another’s. Mark tilts his head, and their lips press together.

At last they lean in. In the dip of the bed Taeyong’s hand clutches onto Mark’s fist. Mark slides his other hand into Taeyong’s hair, pushes the towel down, tugs him closer. Taeyong tastes like toothpaste and his lips are softer than his own, but in this moment they smell the same, and the thought is making Mark lose his mind.

It doesn’t last long. Neither of them can breathe.

Taeyong immediately pulls him into a tight hug.

Mark realizes belatedly, as he wraps his arms around his hyung, that there had been someone else even more tremendously afraid of losing something tonight they wouldn’t get back.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” He feels Taeyong’s smile against his cheek.

 _Nothing_ , Mark thinks, watching the blood retreat from Taeyong’s ear.

From the living room, a lock clicks.

They pull apart, staring at each other. Their eyes snap to the dark gap beyond the door.

“ _Tadaimaaa_.”

Mark stares at Taeyong. Taeyong stares at him in panic, his eyes asking Mark’s own question back at him. _How do we explain this?_ It takes a moment before one of them realizes they don’t have to.

“No. No,” Mark hears.

“It’s alright,” Mark hears.

“All I have to do is walk outside,” Mark hears.

“That’s all I have to do,” states Taeyong, his petrified leader.

 

—

 

When Lee Donghyuck comes home he has to squint at the burst of brightness in their living room, which is why he thought mistakenly about seeing the lights on in their room. Later, when he opens the door, he finds it dark inside. This is how he knows that his best friend Mark is sleeping.

“Where’s Taeyong?” Someone unaware of this shouts from across the room. Donghyuck's _Shhhh_ is just behind his teeth when Mark’s guttural cough lets him know he’s already been stirred awake.

“Where’s Taeyongie hyung?” Donghyuck whispers.

“Iunno,” Mark groans from under the thick lump of his blankets.

Donghyuck shrugs. “K. Night night,” he says, closing the door.

When he does, a gush of air sweeps across the room. In the darkness Donghyuck looks up to see the curtains fluttering in the night breeze outside their window, which had been left wide open.

He shuts it, tosses the AC controller to the foot of Mark’s bed before the ring of a midnight doorbell reaches them across the peaceful silence.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during my family road trip after not being able to get certain scenes and pieces of dialogue off my mind. It wasn't till I was half way thru that I found out lately Taeyong has been feeling the same about Mark growing up...! *__* Happy early 18th to our wonder boy ♡


End file.
